“Sorry, I just got off the phone from finding out someone’s dead.”

“Sorry, I just got off the phone from finding out someone’s dead.”

The guy was indeed a little late coming out. I tell him that it’s not a problem, and drive.

“I’m really messed up, man. My aunt died, she was awesome.”

I mumble a condolence of some sort, probably something along the lines of “I’m sorry.” It’s a source of frustration to me—I find myself in this situation every once in a while, and I can never think of something appropriately comforting to say. So I apologize, even though I don’t know the other person.

“I mean, she was such a good person!” he continues. “I’m not just saying that—she was a child psychologist, she helped kids! Her and her husband were so in love with one another, and just retired to the coast. She choked —I mean, who chokes to death anymore?”

“So did he find her?” He says yes, and I visibly wince.

“What bugs me the most is that I’m gonna have to hear all this bull about how it happened for a reason, that it’s God’s will or whatever. There’s no reason here, just no possible reason.”

“Well, that’s exactly the point, man—there isn’t any ‘reason’ for something so random, so people turn to stuff like God.”

We’re silent for a moment, and he asks what we’re listening to. I tell him it’s a Console remix of a Subtle song.

“I like it, it’s comforting” he says. “Crank it.”

I do.